


How To Date A Chainsaw-Wielding Maniac

by space_goose



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: AU, Angst probably, Blood, Body Horror, Cannibalism, Child Death, Dark Voltron, Dark fic, Depiction of pornography, Depression, Gore, Gore fic, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Kidnapping, M/M, Manipulation, Mentions of Rape, Multi, Murder, OOC, Past Child Abuse, Pedophilia, Splatterpunk, Suicidal Thoughts, Torture, Vomiting, chainsaws because chainsaws are great, im so sorry lance, keith and lance are already boyfriends, there's fluff but not for long, this is fucked up
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-02
Updated: 2017-05-09
Packaged: 2018-10-26 22:10:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,288
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10795740
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/space_goose/pseuds/space_goose
Summary: "His ears picked up a muffled sound. It was far away, but it was definitely coming from inside the diner. Lance's stomach dropped. It felt like a pair of excavators had dug ball's deep inside him and pulled out his guts. The sound was that of a child's, and they sounded distressed, to say the least. By distressed, he meantscream. That kid was fucking screaming. Soon enough, the sound was obstructed by the horrific screech of a buzzing device. Fuck--that's a chainsaw."---Lance recently discovered that his boyfriend, Keith, was working at Zarkon's Dream Diner as the mascot. The suit, however, had been a childhood nightmare of Lance's, especially after the murder someone committed in the mascot suit sixteen years ago.One day Keith doesn't come home one night from work and it's up to Lance to face his greatest fear and venture into the children's diner. Long story short, it doesn't go so well.





	1. The oldest and strongest emotion of mankind is fear

**Author's Note:**

> alright, alright, alright. before we get into this shit storm, id like you all to know that this is the first klance fanfic ive posted anywhere. anyway, im writing 20 different klance fanfics but i actually finished one??? this is a first-time achievement for me holy shit.
> 
> also yes, i know indeed that this fanfic does sound like five nights at freddy's,,, but i swear to fucking god it wasnt meant to be anything like it. when i first made the fanfic, it was set in an amusement park. also, the fic is based around mascots, not animatronics (even though the fuckers are mentioned,,, ugh i hate them)
> 
> one last thing. this song: https://youtu.be/XUt_UMalD3s is what inspired me to make the au. last night i was washing up and listening to the song and i just... felt so motivated to write this. so i did write it,, how about that.  
> i recommend listening to this playlist i made while reading, too: https://open.spotify.com/user/the_goose_of_emo/playlist/2Lhd3FjowGEaZo9aG2Nsgi warning!! the songs actually kept me up all night lmfao good luck kunts

How many people have found out their boyfriend's job is actually working as a family diner mascot? Probably not many. Lance was one of the victims. Maybe victims are too strong of a word, but Lance was definitely one of the people who had a boyfriend working as a mascot.

Which mascot may you ask? That creepy, humanoid purple cat at Zarkon's Dream Diner. Well, they call the cat some alien called a 'Galra', or something, but it's literally just a cat with some fancy name. Lance hated the suit. He remembered going there once as a kid and having nightmares about the suit-- he knows that it wasn't his boyfriend wearing it at the time-- and then he never went back after hearing that some guy in the suit committed a murder at the diner the same day Lance had been there.

It was fucking creepy.

Lance promised never to go back to the horrible place. Not once in his life were he to take a step again into the diner.

But with his boyfriend Keith being the new mascot there, well, Lance had no other choice than to come back. Oh, and he's also mildly afraid of his boyfriend too, which sucks, but hey, what can he do about it? He didn't even know what Keith was doing for a job past the last few months they'd been dating. He had no clue he was dressing up as Lance's childhood nightmare, but God, he's glad he didn't know. He might have just broken up with him without thinking.

The main reason why Lance had to go back to the family diner is not because he had to watch Keith do his job or something, actually, it was because he hadn't come home yet. They live together so it's expected that they come home to each other. But Keith was late. There's always times where someone is home late either because of traffic or having to stay late, not that Keith ever had to stay late; the diner always closed at a certain time. If he ever was home late, it was because of traffic.

But there wasn't any traffic and not only that, it was 9:30 PM. The diner closes at 8:30 and it takes around half an hour to drive there. Keith always came home at around 3:30 PM before someone else (Lance thinks his name was Steve?) took their shift as the mascot, apparently. The latest he's come home at was 5:00 PM because of traffic. It's only happened once or twice. That all may sound bad, but Lance called him at about 6:00 PM to ask where he was. Apparently, he had to take both shifts since the other guy, Steve was off sick. Lance was rather puzzled why Keith hadn't of told Lance beforehand, but it was all well and good. Just it wasn't all well and good anymore. He should have been home 30 minutes ago or at least called him to see what was up. Keith won't even pick up his phone.

Something was wrong.

Lance decided that the only reasonable thing to do was go there. Go to Zarkon's Dream Diner.

It was going to be hard, Lance knew that, but if Keith wasn't picking up his calls, well, he had to fucking find him. The worse things that came to his mind were either that he crashed his motorcycle or got murdered or something. Both were just as bad to think about, but fuck-- they were so very possible.

He parked his car outside the diner, peering over at the rundown place. This Zarkon's, in particular, was one of the first ever built, so it made sense that it looked like something out of some indie horror game. How Keith worked at a place like this, Lance will never know, but it's not in his department to tell Keith where to work and where not to, even though he has definitely told his boyfriend about the nightmares the place used to give him. The Zarkon mascot himself was actually just as horrifying as _Keith_. No, not the boyfriend, Keith. The mascot he dressed up was literally named _Keith_ (nicknamed Kreepy because that fucker is creepy). Lance only guessed that's a reason why Keith, his boyfriend, decided to take the job because it hardly even pays much to be forced to wear a furry, sweaty and terrifying fucking catsuit around to scar children for the rest of their lives. Yeah, Lance _really_ hated the suit.

Anyway, about Zarkon, he reminded Lance of some sort of turtle; like a mutated turtle, and a purple one too. Basically, all the mascots and animatronics there were creepy, purple cats, and Lance hated every single last one of them.

He opened the car door, stepping outside into the cold night air, feeling his nostrils stings at the intrusion of said air. It was freezing. It usually was during winter, anyway. He slammed the blue car's door shut, imaging the ice shards that could have formed on it shattering. He wouldn't be surprised if his own nose didn't have ice growing on it already. Fuck, it was cold.

 _Shit, stay on task_ , he urged himself, wrapping his arms around his cold form. All he had to do was go into the probably abandoned, freezing, dark family diner to find his missing boyfriend. Oh, and he also had to see the face of the things that haunted him his entire life, in the dark; lifeless and staring at him with empty eyes.

Nice. Fucking brilliant. Lance can't _wait_ to go inside! No, he'd rather die, but he was doing this for Keith and Keith only. He loved him more than the rain, so that means he'd do anything for the bastard, even if it meant going into some hellhole.

"Fuck you, Keith. Why do I love you so much?" he whispered to himself, biting his lip in anticipation. He realised he hadn't even moved from where he first got out of his car. He was still standing there; cold, shaking and glaring at the 'children's diner' like it was some sort of slaughterhouse.

Oh, wait, _it is_. Lance is glad that fucker got a death sentence. He murdered at least three children in the back room of the place. Apparently, he had cut their vocal cords out (how the fuck?) before raping them and then proceeding to cut off any appendages on their bodies; that includes their penises, by the way. The poor kids were only 6-10 years old. Fuck. Just thinking about it makes Lance sick. He was there that day. He was in the place where they were being brutally slaughtered to death and he-- he couldn't do anything. No one knew what was going on until a staff member went in there and found three mangled corpses spread across the room.

A rumour came around that the witness of the crime had seen one of the dead child's heads shoved inside their brother's anus.

Lance felt like he was going to puke the more he thought about it. Only ten minutes after he left the diner back 16 years ago; this woman (the witness) had seen the crime and was traumatised for life.

Life is fucking brutal.

"Just go in there, Lance. Don't pussy out now," he yell-whispered at himself again, finding himself glued to the pavement beneath him. It felt as if his whole body had been frozen, not because he was cold (which he fucking damn was) because he was scared. He was fucking horrified. He felt sick to his stomach and as if his legs were going to give out and send him toppling to the ground.

No, he was going to do this. He was going to go in there. _Somehow_. He had to take it one step at a time and eventually his feet would find themselves at the door of the diner.

He took a deep breath before stepping forward.

_One._

Counting them seemed to take his mind off what he was getting himself into.

_Two._

_Three._

_Four._

Fuck.

_Five._

_Six._

Shit, shit, shit.

_Seven._

_Eight._

This wasn't taking his mind off anything. Actually, it only brought memories of past abuse. Lance hadn't really been fond of maths class or Sesame Street.

_Nine._

His dad would always count his steps. One, two, three, and so on, before he came into Lance's room. No, not to tickle him, that's too nice. Lance's dad wasn't nice. Diego was never a nice guy.

_Ten._

Every step he would count out loud, almost screaming, so Lance could hear him through his locked door as he curled up in the corner, sobbing and shaking.

_Eleven._

Then he would smash the door open and almost completely tear the wooden door off its hinges.

_Twelve._

He would stomp into the room, belt in hand, veins looking as if they were ready to pop out of his head and pull Lance out of the corner.

_Thirteen._

He did it for fun. He would beat and scare Lance as if it was some sort of game. He would smile, even if he was angry for no apparent reason, and laugh as he flogged his son with the belt.

_Fourteen._

Even the rape was some sort of game to him.

_Fifteen._

It doesn't matter now, though. None of that matters. It's in the past.

_Sixteen._

"Finally." Lance felt like he was on the brink of a panic attack from reliving past abuse, but he made it and the thoughts were pushed back (fuck, that was such a lie).

He reached for the door bar to pull it. It opened.

Oh, no. _It opened_. He was so desperately hoping it would be locked, but it's open. How is it open? The place closed around two and a half hours ago. They would have locked the doors. There's no way in hell that they would keep a place like this unlocked.

He made it this far and there's no going back. Shit, he hoped he would go back. He doesn't wanna die in there. Jesus Christ.

He stepped inside the building, already tense from the eerie feeling it let off. Even with the light outside it still managed to be dark as fuck and shaking every last nerve in Lance's body. Bullshit. No kid's place should be this scary.

As he furthered deeper into the building, he swore he could feel eyes on him. He looked up to the stage and it looked exactly the same as it did when he was a kid.

This was the diner where the kids were murdered. This diner out of all thirty around the globe, this was the one with ghosts and dead kids.

The stage still looked dusty and old, but God, the animatronics on it looked no newer than they did 16 years ago. Shitty business. The animatronics probably can't move without producing forty different malfunctioning noises. Even when Lance was eight the animatronics were squeaky and rusty, they probably can't move at all now.

Lance can only imagine how demonic they sound. He hoped they changed the voice box, at least, so they didn't sound like broken Furbies. _Ugh_.

That's what they reminded him of. Fucking humanoid Furbies. He shivered. Just thinking of that made him even more disturbed.

_Great job, me._

The animatronic's eyes were the eeriest part about them, though. They looked soulless and Lance couldn't help but think that they were following his every move. If he remembered the names correctly, Sendak, the one with the fake eye, really seemed to be creeping Lance out the most. Sendak always looked a little weird. He looked like a creepy-ass purple chinchilla or something with a prosthetic eye and arm that God knows where he was supposed to get those from.

There's also Haxus, Haggar (Zarkon's wife or something. Goddamn heteros), Thace, and Lotor (Haggar and Zarkon's son). They're all purple cat aliens. Haxus didn't look much like a cat, but he's meant to be Galra-- anyway-- whatever the fuck _Galra's_ are.

Haggar was meant to be a witch or something. She wasn't even a Galra. Apparently, she was Altean-- if that's the word. Her son, Lotor, kinda looked like her. He had luscious, white locks of hair and had his father's purple skin and pure yellow eyes.

Thace looked like Hugh Jackman as a cat. Lance wasn't a furry, but he wouldn't even hesitate to call Thace his cat daddy, hot damn. Well, not the animatronic. That was horrifying, but the cartoon version of the character was pretty hot for a cat alien.

Enough of the animatronics. They were freaking him out.

He took a look around the room, trying his hardest to make out various objects, tables, etc. in the dark.

"I forgot I had an iPhone."

He really needed to stop talking out loud. He pulled his phone out, turning the flashlight on and searching around. He came here to find Keith and that was it.

Who would have known light could make a dark place even more frightening. Jesus Christ, Lance hated this.

"Keith?!" He called out, cupping his free hand around his mouth in some sort of attempt to amplify his voice. "Keith! You here?" Fuck. Lance's heart is wild and so is the knot that's squeezing his insides into mush.

He felt like one of the animatronics was gonna jump off the stage and shove him inside a suit.

Alright, maybe that fucking game ' _Five Nights At Freddy's_ ' is another reason why he's terrified of animatronics, but seriously. He's literally alone in a kid's eating place where children were murdered in the past with creepy animatronic robots. He's glad the children's corpses weren't stuffed inside the animatronics, then there's no way he was coming in here, even if he loves Keith, there's no way in hell he would come in here.

His ears picked up a muffled sound.

It was far away, but it was definitely coming from inside the diner.

Lance's stomach dropped. It felt like a pair of excavators had dug ball's deep inside him and pulled out his guts. The sound was that of a child's, and they sounded distressed, to say the least.

By distressed, he meant _scream_. That kid was fucking screaming.

Soon enough, the sound was obstructed by the horrific screech of a buzzing device. Fuck-- _that's a chainsaw._

Lance couldn't move. Whatever was happening, that kid was in trouble. He could either let another person die in the same building as him when he could have helped, or go save the kid. He could die in the process, but hey, Keith might be dead too so what's the point of living?

Lance mentally slapped himself.

_Save him._

_Help him._

_Be a hero._

Lance, taking a deep gulp of air and the grip on his phone so hard his knuckles turned white, he took a step forward.

_Be the hero you've always wanted to be._

He started running.


	2. make love with a chainsaw

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning!!!: pretty graphic violence in this chapter. if it doesnt make you flinch, let me know so i can make it even more gruesome lmfao.
> 
> http://the-spacegoose.tumblr.com/ heres my tumblr y'all. feel free to talk or yell at me im sorry

As the screaming and the violent rattle of the chainsaw's motor became louder, Lance knew he was on the right path. He could hear a man's voice too, but he couldn't make out the words because the other two almost deafening sounds blocked it out. The voice sounded familiar, but Lance knew his brain was just panicking. There was no way he could recognise a muffled voice at this sort of distance, anyway.

 

He spotted a door with the words ' **STAFF** ' printed on it. The sounds were right behind that door. If he didn't hurry, there was going to be a third sound; that being the horrid uproar of flesh being butchered.

 

He took a deep breath and lunged for the door, grabbing the cold handle with a death grip and whipping the door open.

 

The wet, gut-wrenching sound of tearing flesh had invaded Lance's ears much sooner than he would have liked.

 

"FUCK!" Lance screamed, but his own voice was basically silent as the child strapped to the chair seemed to have a siren inside them to produce that kind of sound. A scream tore through the victim's throat and past their lips, blood following along the vibrations of the piercing sound as specks of the red liquid spewed from their wide mouth.

 

The chainsaw was already well far into the child's skull and by the looks of it, it rather morbidly cut its way through there. It was a messy job.

 

The deadly rotary was churning, it's loud engine tearing at the air as well as the victim's skin and flesh. Their head was split open from the overall damage of the carnage and loose skin was flapping around like blades of grass in the wind. The chainsaw's jagged chain surface made quick work of its victim's muscle and cartilage, ripping its way through the human's body. Each serrated tip collided with the skull, snapping the bone into sharp pieces that made haste into lodging themselves into the inner layer of skin. The child's whole body was violently shaking along with it as if they were part of the saw itself. In a way, they were, as the chainsaw had rightfully made claim to the human's face by then. Even their teeth seemed to have disappeared as the roots pulled themselves from the gums and either dug into the roof of the mouth or fell to the floor with a silent  _click._

 

Their head had become somewhat of a woodchipper that's had a body fed through it. It was the thick path of blood that spewed from the back of his head that resembled a killer woodchipper, the barbaric act brutally decorated with dislodged eyeballs flying from their sockets in a bloody heap and the mucus that was running wildly from the utterly destroyed nose.

 

Blood was flying everywhere, along with brain matter (that happened to be literally seeping out of their nose and ears) and pieces of dislodged and shredded bone. The mere noises that came from the scene were disgusting: moist tears of skin, the echoes of blood splattering around the room, and the crack and clatter of bones as they fractured under the pressure. The thick iron smell of blood and the stench of human urine and mucus seized Lance's nostrils, sickening him plenty until he felt like puking out everything he had eaten in the past month at an even more extreme rate. The chainsaw sounded like it was getting wedged inside the flesh and unable to move further, but sure as hell, it dug further into the poor child's head and down to his neck, creating a slasher scene straight out of some torture porn movie. By now the oesophagus had been torn and shredded into chunks of blood, emitting a horrible, wet gurgling sound from the child's throat-- or, from what they had left of a throat. 

 

The kid couldn't even scream anymore. He went silent a mere ten seconds ago once the chainsaw reached his tongue. His face was in half but Lance _knew_ the poor fucking thing was still alive and breathing. It seemed impossible that they were still alive after having their brain mangled into bloody pieces. Lance assumed they were paralysed at that point; guessing that the chainsaw had damaged the spinal cord in some way. Yet, he didn't know, he only hoped, because he  _wished so dearly_ that the poor thing couldn't feel what was happening to them. Whoever was doing it to them had to pay, that's for sure.

 

_Wait._

 

Lance hadn't even realised who was holding the chainsaw.

 

When his eyes hovered over to this "person", he couldn't even describe the feeling he got. It was horror, disgust, anxiety and hatred. It was nearly every negative emotion you could feel piled into one extreme emotion, and Lance could feel tendrils of the pure _feeling_ just tearing through his veins. He could feel his face burn with the anxiety that pumped into his bloodstream. He felt like a boiling kettle.

 

And why did he feel this alien emotion? _Why_ did he feel like running through a town with a machine gun and unloading its lethal packaging on innocent people?

 

Because beyond the blood-thirsty chainsaw stood _Keith,_ the purple cat cackling like a maniac as its chainsaw kept tearing through the mutilated kid's body. Thick, red blood was sprayed across the catsuit, deepening Lance's fear of the mascot. He always imagined what he looked like as he murdered the kids, and this was it. Front seat tickets to a murder.

 

Then he remembered who he came for. The person he trusted most in the world. The most beautiful man alive. Someone he would die for.

 

Keith.

 

Was Keith inside that suit? Was Keith fucking murdering that kid? Is that why he didn't come home or pick up Lance's calls?

 

The chainsaw stopped, the screeching sound of the death-machine dying down. It was wedged half way inside the now-dead child's body, blood spewing everywhere. The two halves of the corpse were split apart, hanging like clothes in the breeze. One-half of the pink, cerebral organ slipped out of the head, hitting the ground with a wet thud. Blood squeezed freely from the dips and crannies of the brain; the red fluid seeping out like snakes peeking out of their burrows.

 

Lance couldn't keep it in, but god did he try. He hacked and gagged, unable to keep the puke down. It came up his throat, burning, and seeped past the corners of his lips before he let it flow free on the ground. Vomit spewed from his mouth, a coughing spree following after as he hunched over with hands on his knees. The pale, greenish, chunky fluid splattered across the floor and on his sneakers; the thick stench of the stomach acid burning his nostrils. He felt like his whole stomach had just erupted from his body and out his mouth. Well, it basically had just done that, but it was probably the worst possible _spew_ that Lance ever did fucking _spew._

 

"WHAT THE FUCK ARE _YOU_ DOING HERE?!" A voice screamed. 

 

Fuck. It's muffled but Lance knows that voice. That's... No, it couldn't be. Keith would never hurt a child. He loves kids! Lance wouldn't be surprised if he wasn't some paedophile from the way Keith seemed to never stop talking about children! What the fuck. _What the fuck?_   _This is all so fucking wrong!_

 

Lance said he was going to save that kid, but he was already dead, and Lance is going to be dead too if he didn't fucking _get out!_

 

He charged out of the room, almost slipping on his own spew (and that godforsaken blood. It splattered halfway across the room!), before slamming the door shut behind him to slow down his chaser. _Was he even chasing him?_ Lance couldn't hear anyone behind him.

 

In the process of almost tripping over his own feet in a panic, he barged into the diner's doors, swearing he heard a hinge break at the force he hit it. He jumped into his car at the speed of light, shoving the key into the ignition and pedalling the acceleration and gassing out of the joint like there was no tomorrow. _There might just be no tomorrow._

 

He fumbled for his phone, aiming to call the police before dropping his phone out the window like a goddamn idiot. He mentally cursed at himself, slapping a flat palm against his sweaty and hot forehead.

 

"Fuck! Fuck, fuck!"

 

Out of all the times for him to lose a phone, now was the worst. How the fuck was he stupid enough to drop the phone out the window like that?! He always was clumsy when he was anxious and afraid. No wonder his dad told him he was bad at sex-- fuck. Fuck. His dad called him retarded too, _makes sense._

 

_"SHUT UP!"_ Lance screeched at himself, gripping the wheel hard enough to turn his knuckles white. He could hardly catch his breath, it felt like he was going to suffocate on his own air. He's glad there was no one driving in his lane or he would have caused an accident. He was too afraid to stop the car and pick up his phone. He thought _Keith_ was still following him.

 

The thirty minutes of driving home were hell.

 

He screamed the entire way to his door, cursing in both Spanish and English as he floundered for his keys, jamming them into the door lock. Once he was inside he locked the door and proceeded to lock every last window, door and every other opening into the house.

 

He can't believe his boyfriend is a murderer.

 

It's-- it's impossible. This was all a bad dream, he knew it.

 

How the fuck did he manage to dream about a child getting chainsawed in half so graphically? He would have never guessed so accurately on what it looked like unless he saw it actually happen. But he knew _why_ he would dream about Keith killing someone.

 

It's the suit. That fucking catsuit. It had come back to haunt him. It wanted Lance dead.

 

With all the thoughts going through Lance's mind, he has to sit down and think. He took a seat on the edge of his bed, clasping his hands together and furrowing his brow at the floor. His breathing didn't calm down, or his heart either. He felt like puking again.

 

_Keith's coming to kill you._

_Keith hates you._

_You could have saved that kid._

_Your father was right to hate you._

"Shut up."

 

_Maybe Keith should just kill you. Your life is pointless, anyway._

_End it._

_Kill yourself. Do it._

Lance started to weep. It was sudden, but it always was for him, anyway. He covered his eyes and sobbed, letting the fresh tears pour into his hands. He rolled onto the bed and curled up in a ball, crying freely on the bed. Tear drops fell to the soft, blue sheets, marking their landing point a dark navy. He didn't even try to quiet his sobs. Each one was loud and sharp as he fought to gain supremacy over his own body and mind.

 

He wanted to cry forever but he just wanted them to _stop._

 

Each cry was getting harder to produce. They were getting caught in his throat and his whole soul felt like it was raining from his eyes.

 

Maybe he should just end it. End all of it. Right now.

 

The only thing that ended was his crying as he fell asleep an hour later. It wasn't rare for Lance to cry himself to sleep.

 

* * *

 

 

He woke up warm. Protective arms were wrapped around him in a humble hug. Light lips were placed against his neck, sending a delightful chill up his spine as his body buzzed with happiness.

 

The person behind him was snoring softly, indicating that they were asleep. _Heh, Keith fell asleep with his lips on me. How cute._

 

Hold on.

 

A fuzzy recollection started to form in his mind. The name 'Keith' really seemed to trigger it. Keith. Keith...

 

Oh, shit. _Keith._

 

"FUCK!" He jumped out of the arms and rolled off the bed, falling to the ground before standing back up in a second's flash. Keith made noises to show he was waking up. "No, no, no you don't!"

 

In the clothes he swore he never changed into, he bounced out of the room and into the kitchen, grabbing the biggest knife they had. Within seconds time he was at the bedroom door frame again, pointing the kitchen knife in his shaky hands at his waking boyfriend. _He wasn't going to be his boyfriend after long._

Keith stared at him as if he grew a second head when his eyes finally opened. He let out a groggy yawn, but once he realised that Lance was indeed pointing a knife at him, his facial expression changed from puzzlement to fear in a flash.

 

"Lance? What are you doing?" He sat up and perched himself on the edge of the bed, at which Lance jabbed his knife at the air.

"Don't you fucking come near me," Lance spat, his voice shaken with fear. The knife looked like it was going to fall right out of his hands at the violent manner they were shaking.

 

"Woah, Lance, calm down!" He made his signature 'calm down' gesture and Lance scoffed. "It's me, your boyfriend? What the fuck-- put the knife down." 

 

"I saw you last night! You were... Sawing a kid to death! Oh god." Just remembering it made Lance sick. To think that happened only hours beforehand...

 

"What the fuck? You saw _me_ sawing a kid? I literally... What?" He seemed genuinely confused and afraid. He had his hands out as if he was trying to calm Lance, but it only made him more anxious.

 

"LAST NIGHT AT ZARKON'S DREAM DINER, I SAW YOU! IN YOUR MASCOT SUIT! KILLING SOMEONE!" He screamed, panicked. When he was afraid, he was prone to yell. He couldn't stop it, it just happened.

 

"You need to calm down, Lance. I swear to God. I literally came home from work late and went to bed at like 9:30 since you were asleep too."

 

_What?_

 

"You came home late after you fucking MURDERED A CHILD!"

 

_You can't deny it, Keith!_

 

"Look! Lance! please, calm down, l swear with all my soul that I haven't once hurt a child before. I only came home late. You were in bed so I decided to sleep too!"

 

"I don't believe you."

 

The look on his face after he said that was heartbreak.

 

His tone was angry but softer. He was... Sad? "Do you seriously want to break up because of some nightmare you had?!" He sounded like he was on the verge of crying. Lance couldn't pick up a hint of falseness in the crying. That wasn't fake.

 

"I never said-- it wasn't a nightmare!"

 

"IT WAS! I LITERALLY DID NOT KILL A CHILD!" He screamed. "Do you know how fucking bad it feels to have someone blame the murder of a child on you? It's happened before, and I'm fucking over it. I have never hurt a child in my life!" Tears were pouring from his eyes. He was crying. He was sad, angry, heartbroken. Lance made the most beautiful man on Earth cry.

He was the real monster.

Lance dropped the knife. Keith looked and sounded like he's telling the truth. It was genuine. Every emotion on his face has come from his soul. He would never kill a child. That's not something Keith would do. He's too nice and he loves kids too!

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry... I'm just overreacting..." Lance felt like crying himself. He risked a look at Keith only to see the boy holding his arms out for a hug.

Lance fell into his arms, holding his face in the crane of his boyfriend's neck. Keith wrapped his arms around him, squeezing him into a warm hug of forgiveness and love.

 _Cheesy_ , but it's true. 

"It's fine. I don't blame you. Nightmares can feel real, _I know..._ "

 

_Keith's right,_ Lance thought. Not only was Lance not wearing the clothes he was in-- _dreamt--_ he was in, but the vomit that was on shoes was gone-- fuck, he wasn't even wearing shoes. Not a single thing about today was familiar to what he saw in his dream. All Lance hoped is that these nightmares wouldn't become a common thing. He used to have nightmares, so the last thing he needed was to have them again.

 

_His life just kept getting better and better_. _Extreme sarcasm intended._


End file.
